


It's Nothing Personal, Just Politics

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: 1960's AU, F/M, Humanstuck, Vietnam War Era, mentions of war/violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 08:27:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1851313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eridan has always been proud to be the son of someone fighting bravely in the Vietnam War, believing the conflict to be a valiant effort to keep Communism at bay. Then he runs into some flower-loving hippie girl who, over the course of a single meeting, somehow manages to plant herself in the back of his mind and make him question his principles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Nothing Personal, Just Politics

**Author's Note:**

> fill for this prompt: http://hs-worldcup.dreamwidth.org/19475.html?thread=5439251#cmt5439251
> 
> because i saw it and just had to do it

Those goddamned hippies are at it again.

They're always out picketing for one reason or another. Normally, it's for issues that are trivial enough that you can ignore them-- i.e. women's reproductive rights and other decidedly feminist agendas, or some kind of environmental "Save the Trees" bullshit. Although irritating, they're relatively harmless. It's even amusing sometimes, watching them get so passionate about things that don't matter and won't be changed.

Not today, though. This particular protest is the last straw in a long series of annoyances that you've so graciously turned a blind eye to in the past. Today they're protesting the war in Vietnam, the _completely necessary_ struggle against Communism. They're outright making a mockery of everything America stands for, and blatantly disrespecting the military that your father is such a proud part of. You decide that today, you're not going to stand for it. You're going to say something, and force them to see the error of their ways.

They've formed a rather large crowd in the middle of the park that you have to cross through when walking both to and from your high school-- in this case, you're on your way home, still looking clean-cut and professional in your school uniform. That's the only reason you ever come through this place, because if you could avoid them and their unrealistic ideologies then you would. At least you're in your last year of high school, so you'll be off to join the military soon and take after your father. Then you'll show them what making your country proud is really about.

After making sure that none of your slicked back chestnut hair is out of place and readjusting your glasses, you begin to stride towards the group purposefully, keeping your appearance as professional as possible. _That's the best way to make a compelling argument,_ your dad says. _The second best is humor. Assuming neither of those work, show your conviction through violence._ He's truly an inspiration.

Many of the people there are dressed in bright colors, holding signs and some are even singing. You're disgusted by their sunshiney, sugar-coated delusions and lazy ideals. If any of these morons ever wants to hold up a decent job, they'd better pull their heads out of their asses and taste reality. 

Taking a deep breath, you open your mouth to speak, only to have the wind promptly knocked out of you by a blunt force that sends you toppling over. " _Oof!_ "

A feminine-sounding voice snaps you out of your fall-induced daze. "Oh my cod, I'm _so_ sorry!" 

You blink and look up to see a pretty blonde girl stumbling to her feet, then gazing back down at you worriedly with wide blue eyes. Her hair is incredibly long, tumbling in waves down to her hips. She's clad in colorful, ruffly skirts that sway around her knees and a tacky, loosely fitting tie-dyed tank top. Her neck, arms and ankles are heavily decorated with jewelry made from beads and yarn. You barely have time to take it all in before she's offering her hand to you to help you up, fretting, "I really should have been watching where I was going, that was so clumsy of me!" 

The moment you hesitantly grip her hand she heaves you to your feet without breaking a sweat, her tall and lean form surprisingly strong. Still stunned, you take a minute to brush yourself off, frowning at the grass stains on your shirt. Shit, your mother is going to _kill_ you. Sighing deeply, you clean off your smudged glasses while the girl bends to pick up the scattered daisies she was carrying, muttering to herself disappointedly about the ones that were crushed by her fall. 

Momentarily forgetting the reason you're here in the first place, you furrow your brow curiously. "What're those for?"

She stands with an armful of the flowers, smiling politely. "Daisy chains, of course! See?" She gestures to the daisy tiara weaved into her golden locks. Before you can comment on how frivolous and pointless that is, she grins excitedly and continues talking. "Oh! You must be here for the rally, am I right? I don't think I've seen you before!" 

You huff and push your glasses up your nose, crossing your arms haughtily. "Yes, actually. But-"

"That's great!" She cuts you off, reaching up and draping a pre-made crown of daisies over your head. An indignant flush fills your cheeks, but before you can move to tear it off she grabs your hand again and shakes it energetically. "We need all the support we can get, to be honest." Then, looking as though she just had a realization, she gasps, "Oh geez, I forgot to introduce myself! I'm just being all kinds of rude today, aren't I? My name's Feferi. What's yours?" 

You're rather taken aback at how downright bubbly and cheerful this girl is. How on Earth can someone so endearing be part of such a foolish movement? "It's- it's Eridan. Eridan Ampora. And-"

"Nice to meet you! Right now I need to go pass these out and make some more chains, but I'll see you around, hopefully." Turning in the direction of the rest of the crowd, she adds over her shoulder, "By the way, sorry again about crashing into you!" 

You start to protest, "Wait-!" But she's already disappeared, and you're left feeling like a complete idiot. There's no reasoning with these people, and all you managed to do was embarrass yourself in trying. Tense under the interested stares of a few protestors and red in the face, you hastily turn and stomp away. 

Just when you get home and are beginning to think that this has been the worst day ever, you happen to glance in your bedroom mirror and notice that you'd forgotten completely about the daisy chain on your head. With a distraught groan, you remove it and glare at it, suddenly reminded of Feferi. 

Perhaps that's why you can't bring yourself to throw it away, as you vow to return it to her tomorrow and tell her that she's wrong, then persuade her to see your point of view. You ignore the part of your brain that tells you that you shouldn't care so much, and that there are plenty of other fish in the sea, but your pride refuses to let it go. 

There must be something important about her, anyway, because for the rest of the night you can't get her off your mind.

**Author's Note:**

> eridan feels the same way about hippies that i feel about MRAs. hah.


End file.
